Little Stagehand Best Beware
by DaydreamingTurtle
Summary: A fifteen year old stagehand named Elise witnesses all of the Phantom's doings. Rated for possible violence later on. Please R&R!
1. New Job

**Yay! School's out! I graduated! Now, hopefully, I can write more fanfiction. Or "phanfiction," as this might turn out to be...** **I have an idea growing. Yay! My brain can still function even with no more school left.**

**Okay, here's something... maybe. _-grins evilly-_**

**Disclaimer: Nothing's mine unless you read something that is not familiar, then and _only _then is it mine. **

**An apology ahead of time: My computer is being dumb, so if there are bolded sentences in the story and you can find no reason for them being there, blame my computer.**

**My idea: A stagehand witnesses all of the Phantom's doings. Hopefully original. New perspective, maybe? **

* * *

I arrived on a cool April day. I was not alone; there were many people my age (and one or two younger) arriving. I had been hired out as a stagehand. For many a year I had dreamed of working in theatre, and here's my chance! 

Probably twenty or so of us stood outside of the towering Opera Populaire, waiting to be acknowledged. I looked around. Mighty large slew of us to all be hired at once. Odd. But thatwas none of my business. I was just glad for a job!

A middle-aged man opened the large double doors. Within seconds, all of us were inside. Poor man. Probably got squished. I'll try to find him later.

What a sight! Most of the room had to be solid gold! Two large staircases led to the second floor, each seeming to be made of gold, too. Where does Paris get all of this? Lucky aristocrats.Never have to do any real work. Well, I guess working in a theatre isn't real work, either, but it pays well, and is never _too_ boring. And at least it is _working,_ not just sitting around signing papers and counting money.

A slightly elderly lady led us to the actual theatre, where we would be working. There, she gave "the drill," so to speak.

"Welcome, everyone, to the Opera Populaire. We are all glad to have you here. Before I take you backstage, are there any questions?" She sounded like a school teacher. I raised my hand. "What do we address you as?"

"Mme. Giry," she replied._Giry; Giry, _I repeated it in my head. I raised my hand again. There's nothing wrong with learning.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Mme. Giry, why do you need _all _of us? Why are you so short on stagehands?"

She smiled. "Well, you've probably heard of our Phantom, no?" I nodded. Who hasn't? "Several of our previous employees have claimed to have seen him, our ghost, and refuse to come even near our theatre. That's why.

"Now, I trust that none of you are frightened by a ghost," she said, speaking to everyone now. Some people looked a little nervous. Mme. Giry must've noticed this. "If you are, fine. That's why there are so many. If you want to leave, go now. I will tell no one."

The smallest person (a girl, maybe thirteen) burst into tears and ran out. Poor child. How embarrassing. Two other people walked out, but with much more maturity. It was amazing how much smaller the group looked.

Mme. Giry waited till the three people walked out, and motioned towards us. "Follow me," she said. Very casually, too. Like this happened all the time. Maybe it did. How should I know?

The moment I laid eyes on it, I knew that I would _love_ my job. All the hustle and bustle of preparing something great. I could hardly take it all in. Mme. Giry walked briskly, pointing out something important here and there.

People from our group floated away, finding their interests. I wanted to do everything, but (obviously) I was only human and couldn't do it _all._

We passed giant hunks of intricately painted and sculpted sets. Was that what I wanted to do? No. I can't paint. Mme. Giry pointed upward at one point. A giant catwalk hung above us, with what seemed like thousands of ropes. Each, I'm guessing, controlled something on the stage. Wow. Too bad I'm deathly afraid of heights.

A long line of ballerinas passed us. That would be a nice job, but I highly doubt that was one of my choices. I can't dance, anyway. Too clumsy. This was harder than it looked, and I hadn't even started working yet!

We wound out back on the stage. I had found nothing that had fit me. I felt empty. I was the only one left, save for Mme. Giry.

"Well, Elise, find anything?" she asked. Her voice surprised me a little. She knew my name... how? I shook my head no. She raised one of her eyebrows. "Come with me, dear." With that, she began to walk away. She's fast.

Up a winding staircase. Across a hall. Where was I going? Mme. Giry stopped short in front of a bare room. An office. She sat down and motioned for me to, also. "Elise, why did you come here?" she asked. I was confused.

"Well, I've always wanted to work in theatre, so when this job opportunity came up, I 'jumped the gun,' so to speak." Lovely, a job interview.

"What can you do?" she asked.

"Um, I can try to do whatever you ask me to do," I said, picking my words a little carelessly.

"No, I don't want to know what you can try to do. What can you _do_?" She asked again.

"I... can... I don't know. I never thought about it. Could you please help me?" I didn't want to sound desperate. I must've though. Mme. Giry got up and motioned me to the door. "Follow me," was all she said.

Down to the stage again. But this time, she led me down to the side, past the curtains and to yet another winding staircase. Up we went. A sturdy hidden balcony awaited us. There, there were two men, one staring at us and the other drinking something foul-smelling. Some sort of alcohol.

"Elise, meet Amos..."—this was the staring one. Handsome, almost—"...and Joseph." The drinking one. "They work the sets and the curtains. For now, until you find something that you find suits you better, you will work with them. Amos, I trust you shall teach Elise what ropes and levers do what. Good luck, my dear."

With that, Mme. Giry descended back down. I had decided not to tell her I hated heights, because she had helped me find some job, even though she didn't have to. Nice lady.

Amos sent right into telling me how to work a good bit of the stuff. There were no rehearsals going on at the time, so he let me practice with the curtains. Easy.

The props were more difficult. Each had one exact position the you had to get it in. If you missed your mark, people would notice, so Amos said. He was nice. I decided I liked him. Not _that _way, though.

Stupid Joseph. All he did was sit and drink. And drink and drink and drink. Only once did he acknowledge me, and what he said made no sense. In a slurred voice he sang:

_Little stagehand best beware._

_For the Phantom is sure to have new prey._

Only then did Amos interrupt. "Joseph, shut up. Enough girls have been frightened by you, and we don't need any more. Come, Elise. Rehearsals are starting. Don't let Joseph the Drunk bother you."

Most of the set was still to be hung correctly, so we were permitted a break from our posts. I decided to stick around. This may be interesting.

Amos and Joseph had left. They're probably used to rehearsals and bored by them. But this was a new experience for me.

The orchestra began a song from the play the theatre was putting on. _Hannibal, _I believe it is called. I watched as a loud Italian woman began belting out barely understandable words. Man, even _I_ could probably sing better than her.

I heard someone scoff. I thought I was the only one up here. Maybe Amos or Joseph had come back. I looked around the balcony.

Then I saw him. Nearly completely hidden in the shadows was a man all in black. Except for the mask he wore. It shone in the tiny bit of light that survived to get up to where I was. I could barely see him.

The Phantom? Nah, it couldn't be. Joseph's song is getting to me. Stupid drunk. But I don't think this "Phantom" saw me. That may be for the better.

The goings on down on the stage ended abruptly, and I saw the Italian lady strutting around again. I don't like her. She's annoying. She was yelling at two old guys. The composer was mingled among all of them.

The Italian Lady marched to the center and began "singing." I had heard the song before. Now I didn't like it. I'm sorry if I sound like a critic, and I know I can't sing, but it sounds like she is screaming more than she is singing.

I saw the man move. Like jump to another place. I ducked down to as close to the floor as I could get. He landed quite close to me. I wondered if he actually _had _seen me, and was messing with me on purpose.

He released a rope. He seemed to have a good sense of knowledge about the place, because the single rope he cut unleashed rolls and rolls of painted canvas: a background. It fell right onto the Italian lady, and she fell.

I laughed, quietly. Stupid, stupid me! When I looked to my side, I was eye to eye with the man in the shadows. I retracted a breath, scared that he was gonna kill me, but all he did was put a finger to his lips, signaling me to be quiet.

Then he ran off.

At that moment, Joseph returned. He began pulling up the dropped canvas with a large lever. "As God's my judge, I wasn't at my post!" Joseph called down. Stupid drunk. I am so glad he hadn't seen me. I know by now I don't like Joseph.

Soon afterwards, he left again. I slunk down the stairs, careful not to look too far down. Now, on the stage was a young woman, very pretty, singing. Really singing. Not that screeching noise the Italian lady was attempting. I think I like the song again. This time, I could understand the words.

_Think of me_

_Think of me fondly_

_When we've said good bye_

_Remember me_

_Once in a while_

_Please promise me you'll try_

_And then you'll find_

_That once again you long to_

_Take your heart back_

_And be free._

_If you ever find a moment,_

_Spare a thought_

_For me._

The woman sang. I lip-synched along with her. She was very good. And didn't try too hard. She's much better than the Italian lady.

Mme. Giry was standing slightly offstage, by a young blonde girl. Her daughter, maybe? I figured it was. They looked a lot alike. Mme. Giry saw me before I got to her. "Child, what happened?" she asked in a hushed tone.

It sounded like she already knew the answer. "I– I saw a man. All in black hiding in the shadows. He had a mask on the right side of his face. He released the set onto the Italian lady." I felt dumb telling Mme. Giry this. "Carlotta, you mean?" she asked. I figured that was the Italian lady.

"Yes, Carlotta. He also laughed when she started singing," I concluded. Mme. Giry rolled her eyes. I heard her whisper something under her breath, but I couldn't quite make it out.

She diverted her attention to the girl on the stage. "Who's she?" I asked her. "Christine Daae. Wonderful girl," she said. With that, she walked away, leaving me there with her daughter. Might as well be friendly.

"Hello, I'm Elise. I started working here today," I introduced myself. "Hello, I'm Meg. You've met my mother, haven't you?" Aha! So she _is_ Mme. Giry's daughter!

Awkward silence. "Did... did you really see the Phantom?" she asked me. "Yes, I think so." This was a conversation starter. "I'm deathly frightened of him! Did he see you?" I nodded. This made Meg excited. "What did he do to you? I heard he puts spells on people he wants to leave him alone." I paused. Am I under a spell? Maybe.I don't feel any different.

"No, I don't think I'm under a spell." I said. "Then what did he do?" she asked excitedly. Boy, was she gonna be disappointed. I shrugged. "He told me to be quiet." Meg stared. I laughed.

Mme. Giry wisped me away from Meg. Down more hallways. She led me to a decant sized room with three or four beds in it. "I nearly forgot. This is where you will be staying." She pointed to a bed in the corner, by a window. I was overjoyed. "Y–you mean I get to live here?" she nodded.

We both walked inside. She closed the door. "Elise, it is of great importance that you try to avoid the man you saw in the shadows. To everyone, he is the 'Phantom,' but you have seen him as he really is, just a man. He will not harm you if you avoid him, and don't spread rumors about him." She emphasized that last part.

"I didn't tell rumors about him. Meg asked me questions, and I answered them. Didn't stretch them at all." She seemed a little uneasy, but didn't say anything else.

"Come, my dear. Rehearsals are still going on, and you need some experience. The show will begin in about three hours' time. You _must _be ready." She opened the door again, and we both walked to the stage.

I smiled. I couldn't help it. I had come face to face with the "Phantom of the Opera," and (guess what) I'm not scared!

* * *

**Okay, this was a good bit longer than I intended it would be. Amos, Elise, the group of stagehands, Joseph's song, and any dialog spoken that was not in the book, play, or movie is _MINE_!**

**I am sorry if this was terrible. State your opinions. If you thought it was terrible, tell me. Then I can delete it, and no one will ever know this filthy thing ever came into existence save for the few people who accidentally read this.**

**I don't think that my computer was stupid! Yay! But, I might be wrong. Point out any mistakes (bold spots, typos, etc., etc.,). 'Twould be greatly appreciated!**

**There is hardly any movie dialog for three reasons: 1) I'm lazy, 2) I have only fully seen the movie four times, and 3) this story is coming from a fifteen year old's memory. Like she's gonna remember a lot of dialog! And besides, she was only listening to bits and pieces. So, ha! **

**Yeah, please review, and I will try to have a new chapter up real soon for you! No flames, please, and if you _do_** **flame me, you must have a worthy enough reason. **

**Until next chapter,  
****DaydreamingTurtle**


	2. The Phantom's Note

**Wow, quick update. I'm sorry, I just like this idea. **

**Got my hair cut yesterday. I hate it now. Poor me, I guess.**

**Okay, now my computer is being stupid in another way. Same apology as yesterday, but with italics instead of bold. **

**Disclaimer: Nothing's mine, except for stuff that you don't recognize. That should be easy to spot. And I am taking no claim on anything else. **

**Review Praises:**

**way2beme: Thanks for reviewing! You were the only one. Here, I'll dedicate this chapter to you.**

**Here's Chapter Two. Everyone, this chapter is for way2beme.**

* * *

My first show. Wow. I'm nervous. Who wouldn't be? I have been busy trying to identify my cues so I pull the right ropes at the right times. Amos helps me with this. Joseph just leans on the rail, watching the performance.

Christine had stolen the show already. Many applauses. Why had she never performed like this before? Anyway, she is very good.

I kept an eye on the spot where I had seen my "Phantom," but he never reappeared. Then, Christine began singing again.

_We never said our love was evergreen_

_Or as unchanging as the sea_

_If_ _you can still remember, _

_Stop and think of me_.

_Think of all the things we've _

_Shared and seen._

_Don't think of the way _

_Things might have been._

_Think of me,_

_Think of me waking_

_Silent and resigned._

_Imagine me trying to hard _

_To put you from my mind._

_Recall those days_

_Look back on all those times._

_Think of the things _

_We'll never do._

_There will never be a day when _

_I don't think of you._

_Flowers fade_

_The fruits of summer fade_

_They have their seasons_

_So do we._

_But promise me that sometimes_

_you will think of..._

_Me._

She finished her song with an array of notes I had never even heard before. Then a thundering applause.

With that, the opera was over.The only one I had ever been to in my life. Astounding! The aristocrats filed out, all of the actors and actresses left offstage towards the back, and I closed the curtains.

I flew down the stairs, forgetting my fear. I wanted to congratulate Christine. So did everyone else, I guess. I could hardly move through the way too crowded hallways in the back. People in costumes and flowers flooded the place.

I only caught a slight glimpse of her. She was headed near a staircase, leading downward. Must be something private. I wouldn't bother her

So instead, I headed to my room. Well, rather, my bed. No one else was in there. For that, I was happy. Sound still burst through all of the walls, though. But it was for the best I was alone, for I found the most peculiar thing on my pillow. An envelope, with a wax seal of a skull. So macabre.

I slid my finger under the flap and pulled gently. It came open easily, the seal still intact. Inside was a small sheet of paper. Written on it was a short note in fine hand. It read:

_Dear New Stagehand,_

_I shall not make this long, seeing as to how much work there is to be done. For you and me. Our encounter is best left forgotten. I would be most honored if you were to change your occupation, to allow encounters to be at a minimum._

_I remain, your obedient servant,_

_O. G._

I knew immediately who this "O. G." fellow was, since our encounter was the only one that had been on accident.

I hid the note under my pillow. Mme. Giry would probably fire me if I showed her. Couldn't risk that, not on the first day and all. Crazy Opera House. That's why I like it.

I left my room. Only a second later, Joseph shoved me up to the wall. He smelled just like his vile drink. "Had a little run in with the Ghost, didn't ya?" he breathed. I raised an eyebrow. "Does it matter?" I asked

This only made him even more suspicious. "Missy, stay away. I seen you up there. Not very good at hiding. Now, tell me. Did ya see the Ghost!"

I spat at him, then ducked beneath his slightly released grasp. He shouted a curse at me, but I paid no heed. Stupid drunk. How'd he get hired here, anyway? None of my business.

I wandered around for a good while, pondering the "Phantom," Joseph, Mme. Giry, everyone that I had met. They're all interesting and thought provoking. Some thoughts not the best, but still...

I walked until I came again to the stage. It's like a magnet. You just wanna kind of _go _there, even if you don't have a reason to. There, I found Amos. He was on a catwalk, directly above the center of the stage. Very high. I'd never go up there.

So I went to the balcony, waiting for him to finish up whatever he was doing. I took a seat on the floor and stared absentmindedly at all the levers. Too many to count right now. Not enough light.

"So, Elise, what do you think?" Amos asked. His voice snapped me out of my staring trance.

"It's great! Great fun. Thank you, Amos, for teaching me. How to work all of it, I mean. If it were only Joseph, I'd quit immediately." Amos smiled. "So... what were you doing on the catwalk?" I asked, trying to stir up a conversation. "Ghost hunting." He smiled again.

"Surely _you _don't believe, do you?" I asked. My eyes widened.

"Of course not! Everyone just feels safer if I do. I don't do anything, anyway. Just walk back and forth. I get some deep thinking done up there." He moved toward the staircase. "Good night, Elise," he whispered. I waved. Was it really that late?

I took a peek at the shadowy place again. No Ghost. Maybe that was a one-in-a-million shot, and I'd never see him again.

I wished the "Phantom" would appear again. Maybe out of spite toward his note, or to worry Joseph some more. This reminded me.

I ran back to my room. I found a scrap of paper and a pen near out of ink. There, I scribbled down in my messy handwriting:

_Dear O. G.,_

_I am sorry, but I enjoy my job with the ropes far too much to abandon it right now. Besides, they need my help. Poor Amos and I are the only ones working the ropes. The stupid Joseph just sits and drinks. As soon as he begins to cooperate, I shall try to switch. Thank you for (possibly) understanding._

_The New Stagehand,_

_Elise_

Who knows if he would come in here again. He had no reason to. But I placed the note on the floor by the window. I folded it up, so passers by would think nothing of it. In the top left corner, I wrote in my tiniest letters : _To: O. G. _

This way, he'd know it was his. Hopefully.

I laid down onto my bed then realized how tired I was. Physically though. My brain was still wide awake and spilling over with questions. Then I heard it. A soft, gentle voice in the room beside mine. Male. How could a male's voice be gentle? No clue.

I tiptoed — thinking now, I had no reason to. I only feared that if I made too much noise, the voice would go away — out of my room and listened. Two people. Male and female. The female I recognized as Christine.

I heard footsteps approaching, and ducked into a hallway and hid behind curtains. I recognized the person. 'Twas the Vicomte! I remembered now. The Opera Populaire's new patron. Rich aristocrat.

He tugged and twisted on the handle and listened for a few seconds. "Whose is that voice? Who's that in there? Christine! Christine!" he bellowed. That was all. He couldn't open the door, so he stormed off.

Behind the door, though, I could hear that entrancing voice. It grew fainter and fainter. Odd. I leaned against the wall, trying to catch any wisp of the voice again. I didn't. I shut my eyes and slid to the floor. Maybe I was more tired than I thought.

I felt my head loll to one side, then a hand on my shoulder. I wrenched my eyes open to be staring into the piercing blue eyes of Mme. Giry. "Come, Elise. Up now. Go to bed. You must be tired." I was. I nodded sleepily, and meandered back to my room.

Three ballerinas were occupying the beds (except for mine, of course). All of them were shrieking and squealing. "Oh, Marie! Did you hear Joseph's new tale of the Opera ghost?"a young girl shrieked.

Someone else (Marie, I am guessing) replied, "I know! I know! So frightening and scary! I shall not sleep for a week! Who knew a Ghost could work spells. I don't want to risk losing _my _voice!"

I smiled. If I were under _that _spell, it was more of a loss for him than me. "Absolutely hideous! No nose at all! And burning, fiery eyes." The last concluded. I sat up. The others looked at me.

"Joseph _has_ told you of the Ghost, has he not? He's the only one to ever see him," Marie told me. "Of course he has. I highly doubt all of his stories. He's only a crazy drunk," I said matter-o-factly. They all gasped, as if they had never known of his disgusting habit.

Then they forgot about me again. And told each other terrifying stories of the Ghost, each passing story getting more and more stretched. I scoffed. "Don't talk about him unless you've met him," I muttered.

My hand had found it's way under the pillow. There, I felt the envelope. The flap. The wax seal. I was in ties with the Phantom now. This could get interesting.

* * *

**Now, go on with your criticism. Once again, Elise, Amos, anything you don't recognize in the slightest bit is mine. **

**Fast update. Consider yourselves lucky. I hardly ever update, especially twice in a row! If you find any typos, unnecessary italicized spots, etc., etc., It'd be greatly appreciated if I was told. Thank you.**

**One more thing: I saw "Star Wars III" today. It ROCKED! For those of you who didn't know, I am a Star Wars junkie. And not ashamed, either.**

**Okay, that's all I need to say.**

**Until Next Chapter,  
****DaydreamingTurtle**


	3. A New Aquaintance and a Trap Door

**Update... again! I am amazed at myself. Maybe you are, too. No, really. Okay, enough about me and updating. Dry subject.**

**_NOTICE!_** **I found a major flaw in my first chapter: my times are way off! If you have stuck with me this far, pretend that at the very beginning of my first chapter where itsays "April," make that November! Sorry!**

**I got four reviews! That's better than one! Review praises:**

**way2beme: Thanks for reviewing again! And "Vicomte" is "Viscount" in French. That's what they call him in most of the movie, besides Raoul. And I'll try to update again soon. That's what summer's for! **

**Ami M. Mercury: Hi And thanks for reviewing! I know that this really isn't your genre for reading. And I don't think her handwriting is as bad as yours. More like a sloppy and in-a-hurry version of mine.**

**Nota Lone: Thank you for reviewing... twice! Yeah, I think Joseph is stupid, too. Um, I don't really know if there will be any major changes. The whole thing will be slightly different, just because of the perspective. But right off the bat, not a clue.**

**I think my computer is now being smart, so there shouldn't be so many mistakes. The only problem is that I can't type. Be on the look for typos.**

**I got the PotO soundtrack. Excited am I. I've listened to it four times in two days. Must get the extended. Mine only has some of the songs.**

**Chapter Three. Here you go. I warn you: this will be long, just because there is a lengthy song before anything really happens. Brace yourself. And if you skip over the song, I do not mind. I wish I could.**

* * *

New opera now. Already! Only yesterday did we put on _Hannibal. _'Tis called _Il Muto, _and is about... actually, I don't really have a clue. It's much different than the one put on last night. That's all I know. That's all I need to know. 

Time to open up. A queue is already forming around the Opera House. Mostly waiting for Christine. I would. Oh, well.

I rushed out to the entry way to see Monsieur Firmin bursting in. He had a note in his hand. Then began singing.

_Mystery after gala night_

_It says "Mystery of soprano's flight_

"_Mystified" all the papers say_

"_We are mystified; we suspect foul play"_

_Bad news on soprano scene_

_First Carlotta now Christine_

_Still, at least the seats get sold._

_Gossip's worth it's weight in gold._

Here, he paused. Like he was waiting for an applause. But the only people around were servants scrubbing the floor, and me. I wouldn't applaud. Not a good singer, like me. But at least I know it. His song was funny, though.

_What a way to run a business._

_Spare me these unending trials._

_Half your cast disappears _

_But the crowd still cheers._

_Opera._

_To hell with Gluck and Handel._

_Have a scandal and you're sure to have a hit._

At this point, Monsieur Andre burst in, looking quite red. He, too, began singing.

_Damnable. Will they all walk out?_

_This is damnable._

Monsieur Firmin began again. It sounded like it was gonna go on for a while. I took a seat on one of the steps.

_Andre, please don't shout._

_It's publicity, and the take is vast!_

_Free publicity—_

Monsieur Andre shouted more than sang: "_But we have no cast!"_

Monsieur Firmin again.

_Andre, have you seen the queue?_

He eyed something in Monsieur Andre's hands. Looked like an envelope to me.

_Ah, it seems you got one, too._

Monsieur Andre opened the envelope and began reading in song.

"_Dear Andre, what a charming gala._

_Christine was, in a word, sublime._

_We were hardly bereft when Carlotta left._

_On that note, the diva's a disaster._

_Must you cast her when she's season's past her prime?"_

Monsieur Firmin whipped an envelope out from his waistcoat and began reading in the same tune as Monsieur Andre had.

"_Dear Firmin just a brief reminder. _

_My salary has not been paid._

_Send it care of the Ghost_

_By return of post._

_P.T.O._

_No one likes a debtor_

_so it's better if my orders are obeyed."_

Now, a duet. Yes, really.

_Who would have the gall to send this?_

_Someone with a puerile brain._

_These are both signed O. G._

_Who the hell is he?_

My eyes grew wide. So I wasn't the only one to receive a letter from the Phantom. "_Who is he?" _This statement from Monsieur Andre surprised me. Were they really _that_ dense? Oy, who was I working for? Suddenly, they shouted together: "_Opera Ghost!"_

_This is nothing short of shocking! _

_He is mocking our position._

_In addition he wants money._

_What a funny apparition _

_To expect a large retainer, _

_Nothing plainer, he is clearly quite insane._

Suddenly, the Vicomte burst into the opera house. Also singing.

_Where is she?_

Monsieur Firmin:

_You mean Carlotta?_

Again with the Vicomte.

_I mean Miss Daae,_

_Where is she?_

Monsieur Firmin—man, is this getting annoying!

_Well, how should we know?_

Vicomte,_ "I want an answer_

_I take it that you sent me this note."_

Firmin, _"What's all this nonsense?"_

Andre,_ "Of course not."_

Vicomte, "_She's not with you, then?"_

Firmin, "_Of course not."_

Andre, _"We're in the dark."_

Vicomte, _"Monsieur, don't argue. Isn't this the letter you wrote?"_

Finally, Monsieur Firmin finished it up. "_And what is it that we're meant to have wrote? _Written." I am glad that he corrected himself.

The Vicomte handed Monsieur Andre an envelope, just like the two I had seen this morning and the one under my pillow. Monsieur Andre read it aloud. Not in song, either. Good.

"'Do not fear for Miss Daae. The Angel of Music has her under his wing. Make no attempt to see her again,'" he read.

I was in shock. I hurried up the stairs and ran to my room (okay, okay, my _bed_). No one was inside. I leapt onto my bed and stuck my hand under my pillow. The letter was gone! I felt like crying.

My eyes wandered till I came to my senses and saw what they had rested on. An envelope! With the wax seal. It was unopened. I grabbed at it and pulled my knees to my chest. I was giddy. Like at Christmas.

"_Dear Elise,_

_So it seems that I am not the only one having trouble with this Joseph. Do not fear; something will be done about it. You may stay at your post, seeing as how much help is needed. I believe I have made something of an acquaintance of you, new stagehand._

_I remain, your obedient servant,_

_O. G."_

A smile cracked onto my face. I'm a friend... with the Phantom! Immediately, I hunted down some more paper and the pen. I found some of both in a small drawer by Marie's bed. I instantly began scribbling out a note.

"_Dear O. G.,_

_Thank you for understanding. And enough with the "obedient servant" act. You are too busy. One more request: lave the wax seals behind if you are going to continue taking your letters back. Thank you._

_A New Acquaintance, _

_Elise"_

My heart swelled. Again, I folded the paper and put it in it's hiding place. At least he had no trouble finding it.

I ran to the stage. Amos was at his post, checking ropes. Joseph was not up there. At least, I couldn't see him. I climbed the stairs and let Amos show me all over again what ropes did what. New opera, new ropes. He was so nice. Joseph wasn't there also, it turned out, so it was even nicer.

A bell sounded. About six hours till the show. And a break for us. Amos stayed at his post, practicing. So dedicated.

I ran to the entryway. People were pounding at the doors. I opened one and the people thrust roses into my face. "Miss Daae?" they kept repeating. I collected a few roses and promised to deliver them. It gave me a chance to meet Christine.

I was making my way up the central staircase when my foot caught on something on the floor. I looked down I was standing on a giant compass. On the perimeter, the words "Opera Populaire" circled it. I was standing dead middle, and my foot had caught on a lowered piece of it.

I stomped on it, then fell. Through the floor. A trap door! I landed in a circular room completely of mirrors. I whimpered. So I sat on the floor and stared at myself. To keep my sanity. That was too hard. I pounded on one of the walls, hoping someone would hear me. I wondered how far I had dropped. The ceiling didn't look too high up. I was just glad that the ceiling wasn't mirrors also.

I sat cross legged and stared at the roses in my hands. How long was I gonna be down here? Would they realize I was gone at all? Mme. Giry had said that plenty of people had left. Why should I be any different?

I tried counting, to try and keep some track of time. I got to around five or six hundred before I lost track. So I began counting again. I only got to about sixty or seventy when I thought I saw a face. The mirrors were getting to me. I felt my sanity dropping. Then I saw the face again. It wasn't mine. The Phantom? Nah, I didn't fear him. Why would he haunt me if I wasn't afraid?

Three-hundred-seventy-eight... three-hundred-seventy-nine... there it was again! Was he watching me? I waved slightly. Hopefully he'd see. I don't think he waved back. But then he disappeared. I looked around for him. Was that him? Or that?

A door to the left of me opened. I stared at it, mouth agape. Either I was now completely insane, or the Phantom that everyone feared had just saved me. _Saved _me. Wow. I stepped out, clutching the roses like my sanity was held in them.

I turned my head and saw a swirl of black cape and heard soft humming. I had heard his voice before! Last night! Then he was gone. I spun around to try to find him and an exit. I saw a staircase and discovered it came frighteningly close to my bedroom. I shuddered. Maybe I was afraid... a little.

I saw Mme. Giry walking down the hall. "Ah, Elise. Here I find you. Come, you must get back to your post. Amos wants you," she told me. Her glace meandered down to the roses in my hand. She gave a half-smile. "Go deliver your gifts," she added. I smiled. She then turned on her heel and began to walk away.

I retraced the way back to Christine's dressing room. I knocked politely and heard a voice on the other side. "Come in," it said gently. Female.

I opened the door to be hit with an overpowering smell of roses. And a burst of colour. It was like a sea of roses. Like mine would make any difference. It took me a few seconds to find Christine.

She was seated in front of a wardrobe by a massive mirror. I stared at it with slight intensity. "Hello there," Christine said. I took my vision from the mirror and focused on her. She's very pretty. "Um, I was told to deliver these," I said shyly. I held out the roses like a three-year-old giving her mother a dandelion.

She took them gently from my hands. She smiled and sat them on her wardrobe. They had begun to wilt, but I don't think she noticed. If she did, she didn't say anything.

I spied a single red rose on her wardrobe, also. It was tied with a single black ribbon. "Who's it from?" I asked. Stupid me. "What?" she asked. Too late to turn back now. "The single rose on your wardrobe. With the ribbon?" I finished.

Her eyes grew slightly wider. "Oh, no one you would know," she told me. I had a pretty good guess. She quickly changed the subject. "I've never seen you before. Are you new?" she asked.

I perked up. "Yes. Last night was my first show. You were very good," I muttered the last part.

"What do you do? Are you a ballerina?" She asked.

I scoffed. "Yeah right. I can't dance."

"Chorus then?"

"Nope. Can't sing." I felt dumb saying this.

"Oh, everyone can sing. What do you do, then?"

"I... I work the ropes. With Amos and Joseph." I felt disappointed with myself. Next to her, I felt inferior. She must've noticed. "No job here is small. Don't be ashamed." I smiled, feeling better. I wished I could sing, though. I turned toward the door.

"Christine, it was nice to meet you finally. I tried to last night, but you were always... busy," I didn't want to reveal that I knew she knows the Phantom. She smiled a smile that showed she was slightly worried. "Good luck with the opera. Hope they go crazy for you again."

"I doubt it. I have no lines in this opera. Maybe next time."

I was shocked. "Why? You're great! That Italian lady Carlotta ought to have no lines! You can hardly understand what she's saying, anyway!" I was getting mad. "Um, excuse me. I shouldn't have spoken like that. Good luck, anyway," I said. With that, I left. Time to go practice some more.

Before I had gotten out of earshot, though, I heard Christine singing a song in the same tune as the Phantom's humming! What had happened? Well, now I know that Christine and I have something in common: we are in ties with the Phantom.

To the stage I went. Most of the set was already down. A large bedroom. Okay... I still didn't know what the opera was about. I rushed up the stairs to the balcony. My fear had totally dissolved. For that, I was thankful. Joseph was up there this time, leaning on the rail and smiling at me. Like we were pals.

Then, to my horror, he pulled out something from his pocket. My envelope. The seal was warped, and the paper was torn almost to shreds. He began a mocking song:

_All the secrets are revealed._

_Our new stagehand's playin' servant for the Ghost._

Then he laughed. A disgusting wheezy laugh. He sounded sick. Good. I hope he is. I felt myself getting hot. "Give that back, you drunk!" I shouted. He laughed again and let go of my envelope. It fluttered down... down... down onto the stage and landed by the large bed in the center of the stage.

I flew down the stairs, jumping at times. I ran, then scooped my letter up. I climbed the stairs and shoved the letter into one of my pockets. "Under his spell, aren't ya, missy?" he asked mockingly.I wanted to kill him. Right then and there. I didn't get the chance. Amos trotted up the stairs and whispered, "Showtime."

Huzzah. Now I can forget about that stupid drunk and do my job. I waited as the actors took their places on the stage. With a tug, I pulled the curtains open. Showtime.

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**Yay, long chapter. My fingers hurt. **

**You should know the drill by now. Nothing's mine unless you don't recognize it. I would like to get three reviews, but I am not picky. I'll take what I am given. **

**Okay, faithful (or not-so-faithful) readers, I leave you now. May I suggest you go outside? It's summer! At least... here in Ohio...**

**Until Next Chapter,  
****DaydreamingTurtle**


	4. Some shock, some hatred, and a surprise

**Another update? I'm spoiling you guys! Yeah. Now if only people would respond...**

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**Ami M. Mercury: Hey, that's right. You still have my book! And I finished yours. Thanks for reviewing!**

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**Disclaimer: Nothing's mine unless you don't recognize it.** **And sorry if I get some of the lyrics wrong. Not my fault. Blame my inability to remember anything.**

**Here's Chapter... is it four now?**

* * *

I watched with a slight awe. I recognized some of the people, but they looked so much more different than last night's performance. And when they are out of costume. Two men and a woman were the only visible ones on stage. But behind the curtain on the large bed was Carlotta and Christine. 

Christine was playing a _man_! Ew. I listened to the song. One of the cues was in it.

"_They say that this youth had set my lady's heart aflame."_

"_His lordship sure would die of shock!"_

"_His lordship is a laughingstock."_

"_Should they suspect her, God protect her._

"_Shame, shame, shame!_

"_This faithless lady's bound for Hades._

"_Shame, shame, shame!"_

On that last "shame," Amos and I tugged hard on two separate ropes, opening the curtain surrounding the bed. There was Christine and Carlotta, pretending to be kissing. Ew again. Carlotta began "singing."

_Serafimo, your disguise is perfect._

_Why who can this be?_

Thena pudgy man with his face painted up waddled onto the stage.More singing.

_Gentle wife, admit your loving husband!_

Here, he made a disgusting gesture to a girl on stage. To my shock, that girl was Meg. I hadn't recognized her! The make-up she had on made her look like a porcelain doll. Anyway, Carlotta made an upset pout.

_My wife, I'm called to England on affairs of state._

_And must leave you with your new maid._

Here, he moved toward Christine and made another disgusting gesture. This opera frightened me.The topic, really. I was raised against it. Adultery, I mean. And that _was_ what this seemed to be about.

The pudgy man leaned out toward the audience and spoke: "Though I would happily take the maid with me!" The audience broke out with fits of laughter.

"The old fool is leaving!" Carlotta also spoke to the audience. Again they laughed.The pudgy man left.

Christine ripped off her "disguise," and everyone on the stage gasped. Carlotta again sang.

_Serafimo, away with this pretense. _

_You cannot speak, but kiss me in my husband's absence._

Again, they pretended to kiss. Okay, this is getting annoying. Carlotta began singing. I felt bad for Christine. When she said she had no lines, she really meant it!

_Poor fool, he makes my laugh._

_Ha-ha, ha, ha, ha!_

Carlotta kept "laughing," each time going higher and higher until she began to screech. I really laughed, though. I mean, come on. It is kinda funny. Amos laughed with me, and when I didn't hear Joseph, I looked around. He wasn't there! Where was he?

My eyes searched around. On the catwalks? No. In the audience—

I saw him. Not Joseph. The Phantom. He was above the audience on a tiny platform circling the whole ceiling. He was just a tiny black speck against the intricately painted ceiling, but he stood out altogether. What was he doing!

The song continued, but now it wasn't just Carlotta singing. Thank goodness.

_Poor fool he doesn't know._

_Ho-ho, ho, ho, ho..._

It continued like this, and the longer it lasted, the more distinct Carlotta's voice got.

_If he knew the truth, he'd never, ever go—_

"Did I not instruct that Box Five was to be kept... empty?" A booming and strong---and vaguely familiar---voice filled the opera house. I looked up at the Phantom, along with everyone else. Most of them gasped. "He's here. The Phantom of the Opera." I heard Meg say.

"It's him..." Christine muttered. "Your part is silent, little toad!" Carlotta shouted at her. Then she gave a huge smile to the audience, and a nervous laugh. Then walked off the stage. I saw her and her servant people, one with a bottle of something.

A moment later, she walked back on stage, acting very happy and nice. "_Oh, mi scusi, tutti._ _Maestro, da cappo, per favore_." she spoke. Obviously Italian. The music began again.

_Serafimo, away with this pretense._

_You cannot speak, but kiss me in my—_

A loud croaking noise escaped from Carlotta's throat. She sounded like a toad! The audience broke into peals of laughter. I joined in.

_Poor fool, he makes me laugh._

_Ha-ha, ha, ha, ha!_

_Ha-ha, ha-ha, ha—_

Another croak! This time, she only opened her mouth and a croak escaped from her. Serves her right! "Mother!" she yelled, then ran offstage. Monsieur Reyer, the maestro, motioned for us to close the curtains. Before I did, I noticed Joseph running in the same direction that the Phantom had appeared.

He opened a small door and ran through.

The curtains whooshed, hiding the stage. Everyone behind them was scurrying around, not really knowing what was happening. Amos and I began pulling and tugging, bringing up the sets and canvas.

Only some of it was up when we were signaled to open the curtains up again. The ballerinas began hopping and prancing around and I let the other sets down. I was breaking a sweat. I looked up and noticed Joseph. He was walking up and down a catwalk.

I watched him, and was lowering the sets at the same time. A swing nearly hit a ballerina in the head, and she shot a glance up at me that could kill. I looked down at her and smiled a sweet smile, which made her even more mad. Then she ignored me, which I was hoping she would've done a lot earlier.

When I looked up again, Joseph was not where I had first spotted him. I could still see him, though. He was walking with a quickened pace, often glancing behind him. Must have paranoia. Then I saw it. A swirl of black cape. At least I think I did. maybe it was a shadow.

Then I saw it again. Moving so agile like a cat. I could hear Joseph's heavy footsteps and the boards creaking beneath him, but nothing, not a sound came from the Phantom. Maybe that's what he is; not a human at all, but a spirit. I shivered.

The orchestra was playing a cheerful tune and the ballerinas were skipping and prancing about. I noticed sheep on the stage. My eyes shot to Joseph and the Phantom again. Wait—where was the Phantom?

I saw him. Just behind Joseph. He (Joseph, I mean) turned around and came face-to-face with him. I could almost feel his terror. But I was amused. After all of those terrible and untrue stories, Joseph was finally living his self-induced nightmare. Serves him right.

He turned and ran. He grabbed hold of a rope and thrust himself up. They were nearing closer to me and Amos. Only Amos really didn't notice anything. The Phantom also thrust himself up, but with much more grace than Joseph.

Now on opposite sides of the catwalks, I could see them both quite clearly. Joseph edged toward one side, but the Phantom just mimicked him. Again and again. Finally, Joseph just bolted. He didn't really seem to care that he was being followed. I think that he believed that he could outrun the Phantom. Ha!

I saw the Phantom kind of dangling on a rope high above Joseph. He —Joseph, that is— runs past and the Phantom drops in front of him. He grabbed hold of two of the suspending ropes on a catwalk and shook them. Joseph fell onto his stomach and I saw the Phantom approach him. He had a thing coiled round his arm. Rope?

A noose! The Phantom thrust it over Joseph's head and pulled tightly. Tighter and tighter. Joseph's eyes began to grow large, his hands clamped round the rope, as if he could rip it off. No mercy came from the Phantom. He held fast until Joseph's flailing grew less and less, then tossed him over the catwalk!

In the midst of the cheerful dancing ballerinas, a jerking and flailing body was held by the neck from a rope. It took the ballerinas a second to comprehend it, and suddenly bursts of screaming erupted from the stage and audience. I could only stare wide-eyed.

Joseph's limbs twitched continuously, then stopped altogether. A glazed look affixed itself to Joseph's eyes, where he blankly stared out to the members of the audience.

I glanced over at the Phantom, and saw him draw out a sword. He cut the rope Joseph was hanging by, and I could hear the thud of Joseph's body onto the stage. Thenthe Phantomdisappeared.

I ran down to the stage along side Amos, who immediately began to shoo away the girls. I recognized Marie, the ballerina from my room. she was shaking and sobbing at the same time, making the illusion that she was having a seizure. Lovely. I would get no sleep with her and her two cronies around.

I looked down at Joseph's dead body and wanted to laugh at it. To scream "Serves you right!" at the top of my lungs, but then I saw his terror-stricken face. The expression that he died with. I shivered, then noticed a tear rolling down my cheek. Was I actually... _crying? _For a man I hate?

I ran.

I ran off of the stage and quickly to my room. No one was there, thank goodness. I threw myself onto my bed and sobbed. Literally. For probably five minutes. I felt better, but a disgusting feeling welled up inside me. Then I shot bolt upright. The Phantom! He had told me he was going to do something! He had told me! But murder!

I rushed back out. Not to the stage, though. Not to anywhere in particular. I kept weaving my way in and out of hallways and staircases. I stopped for a moment to catch my breath and to try to figure out where I was. Pretty high up, I expect.

I began to walk down a—what seemed—abandoned hallway when, for the second time, I came in close contact with the Phantom. He seemed in a hurry, but stopped when he saw me. He turned around, and started going the way he had come.

"How could you?" I asked. He began to walk away again, but answered, "Something needed to be done. No one else was doing anything, and he was getting too close."

"So you decided to _kill _him! And display it publicly!" I gasped. "You best stay away, stagehand," he stated. "I thought I was 'something of an acquaintance'," I tried to use any shred of logic I could conjure up.

He turned around and began walking toward me. A pang of fear grew inside me. Am I going to die? He only stopped when he was only about six inches away from me. "Then, as an acquaintance, I ask you to stay away. I saved you once, don't made me rid of you that soon."

And with that, he walked right past me, deciding that he was going to do what he had come for.

I bolted down as many flights of stairs as I could until I found a place that seemed familiar. This place was _huge_, and I happen to be in the one place that the Phantom was. Just my luck.

I heard the squeal of the ballerinas that reside in my room. lovely. Just lovely. I have enough to think about already, and their squealing isn't going to make it any better. I slipped in, and—surprisingly—no one noticed me. I laid myself down onto my bed, weary and scared when the girls began talking.

"Oh, Marie! Joseph almost fell right on top of you!"

"I know, I know, Janet. Did you see the Phantom?" Marie replied

"I think I did. Looked just like Joseph's—God rest his soul—description!"

I scoffed loud enough for them to hear me. A tall, and very thin girl—Janet—looked at me. "You know better?" she asked me. Marie laid a hand on Janet's shoulder. "Now, now, Janet. Don't you remember Joseph's story? She's the one under his spell! Of course she's seen him!"

I was disgusted. "So, stagehand, tell us. What's he like?" Marie asked with obvious excitement. I could lie. Fill their heads up with more scary stories of him, but that's what got Joseph killed.

"Uh... I don't know all too well," Imuttered. The girls tittered. "Then tell us about the first day you were here, and you saw him," Janet demanded. "Fine," I growled.

"He unhooked a rope and a large sheet of canvas fell on Carlotta. I must've gasped and he heard me, and gestured me to be quiet. That was it," I concluded. The girls looked at me, then giggled. Marie took out a sheet of paper. "Then why is there... this?" she asked. My eyes widened. I hadn't checked to see if there was a new message! They had found it!

"Go on, Marie! Read it again!" the third girl shrieked.

Marie cleared her throat and stood up in the middle of the room. "_Dear Elise, Do not accuse me of anything. I suggest that you keep your belongings in a safe place. I am blamed enough when things go missing. O. G._" Marie read. How dare she bother what is not hers!

I gasped. Had they read my other messages. Marie placed her hands on her hips and smirked. I felt like punching her. "So, stagehand, explain yourself."

I balled my fists until I couldn't feel them anymore. "The first letter was an apology. I wrote back, then he did, then I did, then he did, and I was informed about his last letter by you thieves!" I shouted. "Ha! You wanted Joseph to die, didn't you!" she shouted back.

"Where did that come from!" I shouted.

"Your letters!"

"Leave me alone!"

"I have no reason to," she said coolly. "You're only a stagehand. That means nothing!" her voice was rising again. "Fine! But the show would die without the stagehands!" With that, I stormed out. I slammed the door behind me, and in an instant, I could hear the girls' cackling. I hate them.

The opera house is almost scary at night. Last night, it had been so crowded and bright, but now, there were a few oil lamps here and there. They all cast eerie shadows against the walls, and I felt watched. _How silly, _I thought. But the more I pondered it, the more it made sense.

I wandered for hours on end. Somewhere, I heard a church bell go off. Twelve o'clock. The magic hour.

I was tired. But I couldn't go back to my bed, even if the demonic ballerinas were asleep. I needed to sleep. Where? The stage. It's big, and no one would be there. Not after Joseph. Perfect.

I found my way to the stage without really knowing how. As I predicted, it was empty, except for a few stray pieces of a set. I stood in the middle, and looked up. Instantly, I remembered Joseph. He was mean, lazy, and a drunk, but I miss him. What, was it just yesterday, today even,that I wished him harm!

"I'm sorry, okay!" I shouted to no one. No response, but I didn't figure there would be one. But the silence was crushing. Literally. I felt like I was being wrapped tighter and tighter into some invisible matter. I couldn't break out. So I began humming.

My voice was weak and off-key, but I really didn't care. I just needed _some_ sort of semi-comforting noise. It seemed less lonely. I laid down on my back in the centre of the stage. I felt tiny, like floating in an ocean.

A voice drifted through my thoughts. Not mine. I don't even know if it was only in my head, or really out there somewhere. But I think I had heard it before. It was calm, like a lullaby, and I felt instantly better. I wished it could stay forever. But then it disappeared.

I felt sleep taking me. By body was numb, but something in my brain was still awake. I could vividly see the Phantom as if he was looking right at me at this very moment. I blinked, and it went away. I yawned; sleep had won.

I felt my eyelids closing and my brain shutting down. Finally. A smile crept onto my face. I don't know why. Today had been awful. I had no reason to be smiling.

The image of the Phantom made its way into my mind again. I blinked, but it wouldn't go away. and I was glad.

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**Long chapter again.** **Yeah. My fingers hurt. Y'know, before I went to bed last night, I was thinking. This will be my fifth update on FanFiction** **since I got out of** **school, but before that I had only posted eight times! I've been busy. And bored. Can't forget that! **

**Okay, three reviews, please. Or more. Or less. I'm not too picky. And if you have any ideas, please tell me. My creative side has been a little off this week.**

**And if you'd give me your opinions on my Danny Phantom of the Opera idea, I'd thank you. If I ever write it, that is...**

**Until Next Chapter,  
****DaydreamingTurtle**


	5. Masquerade Practice & Coping With Exile

**Wow, I got a lot of reviews for this chapter! Thank you sooooooooo much! You guys are great! So, here's another chapter for you.**

**Review Praises:**

**SilverWolfSingsToTheMoon: Thank you. A lot! I love reviews! And I am hoping to update soon.**

**Lunasariel: I try to make my characters real. She might have her moments (and have already had) when she loves the Phantom. Like when she was giddy about being 'something of an acquaintance' to him. And with Raoul, I personally do not like him (sorry!), but Elise is not me, and doesn't have an entirely set opinion on him yet. But I promise that he's in this chapter.**

**way2beme: I was hoping that not just Elise and I would hate the ballerinas. They were kinda fun to create, though. They remind me of the popular people at my school. **

**Jinxed4Life: Yay! I am glad that you reviewed... four times! I'd be giddy if I got just _one_ letter from Erik, but Elise got what, three or four! Lucky. And I'm always glad to meet another Star Wars junkie.**

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**Disclaimer: Nothing's mine. Unless you don't recognize it, of course. Then it's all mine! Mwahahahahaha! **

**And this is a bit of a filler chapter. I don't even know if the Phantom will be in it at this point.** **Sorry!** **All right, I think that's it. Please, read on. Enjoy yourself. I can't make you.**

**Chapter Five.** **This is chapter five, right?

* * *

**

I awoke to complete darkness when a church clock rang three o'clock. Great. I was awake now. As if last night hadn't been horrible, now I'm gonna have to go a day with about three hours of sleep.

I sat up and let my eyes get used to the darkness. Nothing appeared to be different. Even the darkness hadn't lightened at all.

A chill swept past me. This place was huge, and drafty. Great. I was already in a terrible mood. I am _not_ a morning person.

Almost straight above me, I heard the creaking of wood. I squinted, but that really didn't help. "Couldn't sleep, either, could you?" someone asked me. The voice was male, and echoed through the auditorium. Amos.

"I _was_ sleeping," I answered. "What about you?" I added. "Nah. Couldn't sleep. I guess I'm just a little spooked about the Phantom really existing. After all my rounds up here, I had never seen him, so I didn't believe in him."

"Makes sense to me," I called out. "It's not your fault. Even if you _had _seen him before, what could you've done?"

I heard the boards shift again. I waited a moment, and turned around. Amos was right behind me. He was really good at navigating through the dark, I noted.

"So... why _were_ you here?" he asked. I let it all spill out. Who could I tell besides him, anyway? "On my first day here, I had a run-in with the Phantom. When I arrived to my room, I saw a note from him. I wrote back, and we communicated like that for a while."

I sat down and saw Amos knelt beside me, his wide eyes so understanding. "In one of his letters, he said that Joseph would be dealt with. He had told me, Amos! Then he killed Joseph, displayed it publicly, and then I had another run-in with him. I went back to my bed and found my three roommates gossiping about the Phantom. Then one of them—Marie—pulls out a letter from the Phantom that I hadn't received yet! I left because of them," I concluded. Amos stared.

"Marie... does she have Janet and Emma with her?"

"I only know of Marie and Janet. But there are three."

"I should've guessed. Y'see? That room was intended for more stagehands. At one point, there were four stagehands in there. Them they all quit one by one. The room stayed empty until Marie asked Madame Giry if they could use it. All of the other ballerinas are in one big room. "

My mouth fell open. Those little prima donnas! And they had shunned_ me_, who really belonged in there. "Yeah, I know. But no other ballerinas have asked for that kind of treatment. Those girls rule over the rest with an iron fist. I hate them." He felt just like I did!

"Yeah, I hate them, too."

Amos got up and started to walk away. "If I were you, Elise, I'd get some more sleep," I heard him say. Then he was gone.

Where could I go? I am no ballerina; I highly doubted that I could bunk with them. None of them would probably let me, with Joseph spreading rumors about me. So I curled up on the floor again. I slept soundly.

* * *

"Is she dead?" I heard someone ask. A foot nudged my shoulder. I winced and someone gasped. "She's moving! Someone, get Madame Giry!" My eyes shot open and I looked around.

My vision cleared and I saw that I was still laying down on the stage, surrounded by employees and performers. Madame Giry came running up. She knelt down, looking extremely worried. She grabbed my wrist and checked my pulse.

"Elise, what were you doing!" she asked in an exasperated tone. I looked around. Marie—of course—and her cronies were in the crowd. They were snickering.

"Sleepwalking," I lied. "No she wasn't! She was probably with the Phantom again!" Marie shouted. Madame Giry sent her a piercing gaze. Marie quieted down immediately.

"Really, Elise? Were you sleepwalking?" Madame Giry asked me. She looked scared and concerned. "Yeah, I was," I replied blankly.

Madame Giry got up and commanded, "All right, get to your posts. Shoo!" All of the people left, leaving me and Madame Giry on the stage.

"W—what's going on?" I asked. "Well, you can imagine the shock and surprise of finding someone curled up, _asleep _on the stage. And with Joseph's passing, everyone has death on their minds." she explained.

"I know that Joseph wasn't a good man, but he wasn't always like that, y'know? He came here when he was about fifteen, and was very good at his job. Then, two years later, both of his parents died when their roof collapsed on their house. Instead of coping with it in a healthy way, he drowned his sorrow in booze. Then it just became habit. It's hard to imagine that he was almost forty."

I stood in awe. I had never been told what Joseph's deal was. I just figured that he was mean by nature. Wow. I feel kinda bad.

Madame Giry had begun to walk away. "Madame Giry!" I called. "Yes?"

"What's going on, I ask again," I said. "No one's at their posts, but you told everyone to." She turned and smiled slightly. "Our annual Bal Masque is in one month. There is rehearsal going on for the dancing and music."

"But it's gonna take all month!" I sounded a bit too exasperated. "Of course. It's a work of art, and you cannot rush art. It must be absolutely perfect. Besides, it's not a ballet, it's an intricate dance of independent movements. No one has the exact same moves for most of the song! It always takes a month. That's why I start it now."

Wow. A month. I wouldn't be able to learn it. Why would I, anyway? I'm no ballerina. "I—is there anything I can do to help?" I offered.

Madame Giry pondered for a moment. "Possibly. Come with me." We walked together—well, not _together,_ I had to jog to keep up with her—to the giant entryway that I had been in just the day before.

There were small groups of performers already there, and I could see the orchestra and Monsieur Reyer in a balcony above them all. As soon as I walked in, I felt hard, hateful glances fall on me. Maybe this was a bad idea. I began to turn to leave, but Madame Giry grasped my shoulders and turned me around so people could get a better look at me. A deep blush made its way onto my face.

"Everyone, attention, please. This is Elise. She will be helping me with the Masquerade," she announced. My face grew redder. This was worse than last night.

She let go of my shoulders and moved closer toward the group of people. "Arrange yourself. Men on right; women on left. Three rows. Tallest in back. Now." On 'now,' she clapped her hands. And the performers began to arrange themselves no questions asked. Madame Giry was born for this job. And I could see that she loved it.

"Here, I am passing out the score. We shall learn the lyrics, and then the dance. Those of you who have done this before, please help the newer students." She sounded like a schoolteacher again. I smiled.

She turned and called, "Monsieur Reyer?" He began immediately. The tune was high and pretty. Madame Giry was directing with her hands and pointed to the group. They immediately began singing.

_Masquerade! Paper faces on parade._

_Masquerade—_

Madame Giry cut them off. "No! You are too flat. Begin again."

_Masquerade! Paper—_

"No. Still too flat. Begin again."

_Masquerade! Paper faces on parade._

_Masquerade. Hide you face so the world will never find you._

_Masquerade! Every—_

"Argh, no. You are still too flat. And on 'hide your face so the world will never find you,' I can scarcely hear the women. Sing from your diaphragm."

I could see why this took a month. For the rest of the hour, it continued like this. A bell rang, signaling eleven o'clock, and all of us were excused. Madame Giry stayed behind. "Y'know, they really are good. It just takes a while to show," she said. I smiled, but I could see that she was tired. She sat on one of the marble stairs. I sat beside her.

"Elise, when you said that you had been sleepwalking, you were lying, weren't you?" she asked. I giggled. "Of course I was."

"Why?" she asked. I sighed. "Because my roommates are demons and I have been exiled from my dorm room." Her eyebrows shot up. "So, I was sleeping on the stage," I finished.

"Why did they exile you?" she asked. "I don't wanna talk about it." She placed an arm on my shoulder. "Does it have to do with Erik?" she asked. But immediately brought her hand up to her mouth. "Who's Erik?"

"N—no one you'd know." She was nervous obviously. "Is Erik the Phantom?" I asked. She simply nodded. "Yes, it does have to do with him," I answered.

"I was afraid of that."

"But we don't talk anymore. I think he's mad at me."

"Then get back on his good side."

"Why?"

"Didn't you see Joseph! He'd contradicted the Phantom in more ways than one without ever actually seeing him! Then got himself killed!"

I shivered. I didn't want to die! I had no reason to! "W—what should I do?" I asked. "Ignore him. Try not to make any kind of contact."

"But Madame Giry! Joseph had spread rumors about me! And Marie— Marie found one of his letters." Her eyes grew wide. "What?"

"Erik had been writing to me. And Marie invaded my personal space and stole one of his letters." I felt so ashamed. And disgusted at myself.

Her arms wrapped around me in some sort of hug. "Oh, Elise. It's hard; I know. But you must be strong. He's lonely and needs someone to commune with. But remember that he can be dangerous." I sniffed. "Are... are you suggesting that I befriend him?"

"Not 'befriend,' just be something of an acquaintance." I gasped. That is what the Phantom —Erik— had called me! Did she know? She smiled a half-smile and stood up. "Come now, dear. Let's see if I can't find you somewhere to stay."

She began trudging up the stairs, muttering to herself about the performance in a month, and I thought I saw the Phantom looking at us. He was far away, looking out through a sheet of glass. Had he been listening? Madame Giry didn't seem to notice him.

* * *

We walked past my old room and I could hear cackling behind the closed door. Madame Giry knocked and the evil laughter stopped. "Girls, please leave for a moment," she requested. The door opened a crack and the three girls filed out. Marie saw me right off the bat and gave me a smirk. I smiled sweetly.

"Go on, Elise. Get your things," Madame Giry told me. What things? I had come with very few belongings. It only took me a moment to gather them up. To my relief, none of my original belongings were missing. But Erik's letters were no where to be found. Probably circulating freely through the opera house.

I stepped out and the ballerinas rushed in again immediately. Now they have something else to talk about.

Not far from my original room was the chorus girls' dorm. It was huge! But it needed to be; I counted about fifteen beds. A few circular windows dotted the white walls.

Some of the beds looked lived-in, others just had a sheet and a pillow. These ones must be empty. I chose one in the corner close to a window. I dropped my stuff onto it. Now it's mine.

Madame Giry left soon, letting me settle in. Another church bell rang, signaling twelve o'clock. I laid down on my new bed and closed my eyes. so much had happened since I came here. Most of it for the worst, but it was never boring. And I was doing the job that I had always dreamed of. I kept reminding myself that things would get better.

I was thrust out of my thoughts when I heard the door open. I opened my eyes slightly, so they were only little slits. Christine came in. The Vicomte, too. Hmm. Wait, Christine hadn't been at the rehearsal!

I was glad that I had picked a corner, because they didn't seem aware of me. "Raoul, thank you. I just needed a break from this place, I guess." That was Christine. I didn't know that the Vicomte's name was Raoul!

"You are most welcome, Little Lotte." a voice said. Male. The Vicomte.

"I just hope that this nightmare will soon end," Christine said. Nightmare! I think what I have been living would be considered a nightmare. I heard her gasp. "Oh, Raoul! The Masquerade rehearsal! I've missed it!" she gasped.

"I don't think Madame Giry noticed..." I mumbled. I hated myself at that moment. Had I really blown my cover and spoken aloud?

None of them sounded surprised or upset, though. "Thank you," Christine said. I didn't hear Raoul, though. I sat up. No use pretending to be invisible now. "We've met, haven't we?" she asked.

"Yes. Hi. I'm Elise. I delivered your flowers yesterday"

"Oh, yes. I remember."

"How do you do, Elise?" Raoul asked. "Fine, I guess," I answered automatically. Pretty much, it was a lie.

They seemed to forget about me again and began to say good byes. Raoul left soon after, leaving Christine and me alone.

"What are you doing in here?" she asked. Not in a mean way, though. More like curiosity. "I got exiled from my room, so Madame Giry allowed for me to bunk here." Christine smiled. "Exiled? By whom?"

"Marie. And Janet. And Emma." Her smile disappeared. "No one likes them. They are all a year my senior, and have been like that since I came to live here," she said. Wow. They don't have that big of a fan club.

"I—I hope that no one minds me living in here now. I'm hoping that they'll leave me alone."

"Why?" she asked.

"Some rumours."

"From Marie again?"

"Yes. And from Joseph."

"About what?"

I paused for a moment. "Um... let's just say that we both actually _know_ him. Not just from the _stories_ about him. And these rumours happen to be_ about_ me and him." I tried to emphasize the correct words. "You mean..." Christine's vice trailed off. I nodded. "Oh," was all she said.

"Yeah. And if anyone else totally believes them, I'll be exiled again. I mean, yeah, maybe some of them might have a shred of truth, but I don't wanna risk it," I confessed.

She walked over to me and sat on my bed. "Do not fret. These rumours come and go. Within a few days, no one will remember anything about them." She didn't sound so sure, though. I could tell that she was feeling uncomfortable. So I changed the subject.

"The Vicomte... you know him?"

She smiled again. "Yes. Since childhood." She didn't say anything else. That conversation died quickly. I took a look at her and realized that she was love struck. She deserved to be. She deserved only the best.

"Do you know what the next show is?" I asked. "No. We are not doing one this month. To commemorate Joseph's death, and for the Masquerade rehearsals. Which I forgot about." She laughed softly at herself.

"I better get going. There's probably _someone_ that could use a little help," I said, getting up to leave. But I felt Christine's hand on my arm. "Elise, you have _seen _him before, haven't you?" I nodded.

She let the rest out in a whisper. "If you see him again, tell me. Please." I nodded again, and her hand left my arm. I walked out of the dorm room and down a hallway. I wasn't very far away when I heard Christine singing in a hushed tone:

_In sleep, he sang to me._

_In dreams, he came._

_That voice which calls to me._

_And speaks my name._

Then it stopped. I left.

* * *

**I'm sorry if this chapter was incredibly lame and boring. There will possibly be one more filler before something more eventful happens. Maybe or maybe not Masquerade next, cause this story will be _really _****short! It already is...**

**Three reviews, please. I love reviews! Only flame me if you have a reason. And a good reason. Please state that reason, too. Okay, that's all, I think.**

**Until Next Chapter,  
****DaydreamingTurtle **


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